Vampire: Night of The Damned
by R-I-C-A-R-D
Summary: Somebody's raising zombies in the city and the Camarilla and Anarchs are forced to band together to combat the threat. An assassination attempt against a powerful Ventrue leads to a confrontation with the Sabbat.
1. Stalked

A/N: I took some liberties with Tremere abilities for this but I decided that being able to raise undead seemed like something they could do if they wanted. Also my first shot at writing dialogue for a Malkavian. Tell me what you think.

1. Stalked

Every once in a while, my ordinary night-to-night undead existence is thrown completely ass over teakettle by little things like zombies. Yes, I said zombies. Bona-fide, Night of The Living Dead, skeletal hands clawing up from the ground zombies. My undead life was just getting better and better.

I was out on the prowl one summery night, the night-time air cool against my face. I stood in the shadows across the street from a church converted into a gothic nightclub and waited for the drunken party-animals to begin spilling out. Why go to all the effort of stalking your prey when you can so easily have your prey come to you?

The heavy wooden doors leading to the inside of the church/club swung outwards, reddish light and the heavy bass thump of dance music spilling into the night. A single young woman tottered out on six inch spike heels. The skirt of her little black party dress fluttered against her thighs in the breeze. She'd stepped outside for a quick cigarette, her face illuminated by the flame of her lighter.

Smooth skin, short, dark hair. Alone. Just the way I like them.

The young woman walked slowly down the stone steps that led from the street to the wooden doors, blowing a stream of grey smoke from her nostrils as she came. _Just a little closer, now_, I thought, feeling my inner Beast rise to the surface. With an effort I forced it back down. I hadn't fed for a couple of nights and the inner vampire was starting to get a little uppity about it. This, of course, is the bane of vampirism - the constant need for blood and the eternal struggle to keep hold of your humanity. I'd done well, so far. I hadn't killed anybody accidentally whilst feeding on them and those I _had_ killed...well it was self defense. Mostly.

The young woman was apparently leaving the gothic nightclub for other haunts. Which suited me just fine as her path was taking her right past my position under an elm tree. I took a silent step out from beneath the tree as she passed and fell into step behind her, footfalls soft on the cracked concrete sidewalk. She had no idea I was there. This close to her I could hear the gentle beat of her heart. Up ahead was an alleyway between the pawnshop and adult store. In the display window of the adult store were a number of leather bondage items and whips. Handcuffs too. Kinky.

The girl paused to look in the display window of the adult store, Cupid's it was called. Cute. I stopped just beyond the pool of light cast by a streetlamp and waited. The young woman lit another cigarette and set off again. I hoped the nicotine in her blood wouldn't ruin the taste of it. My intended victim passed by the mouth of the alley and headed past the pawnshop. I glanced around quickly. At this late hour, the streets were empty. I turned to look back at the old church. The doors stood closed. Within, people would be committing acts of sin way beyond what people could have conceived of back when the Bible was written.

I sped up until I was right behind the girl; she whirled around, eyes going wide in fear. Her long-dulled instincts sharpened as she felt the Beast within me. Too late though. I captured her eyes with mine and let my vampire Presence wash over her. He face slackened and her eyes rolled back, mesmerised. Making doubly sure nobody was around, I gently put an arm around her narrow shoulders and guided her into the alleyway. The alley reeked of stale urine and cheap wine. Rubbish from overflowing dumpsters littered the ground and I could hear the little scritchy sounds of rats foraging through the crap.

I drew the young girl behind one of the dumpsters, her eyelides fluttering as she fought the Presence. I gently held her head to one side, revealing the pale skin of her throat. The vein beneath her skin pulsed rather invitingly. Or, if I'm being perfectly honest, it pulsed erotically.

I opened my mouth and felt the fangs extend and was just seconds away from piercing that beautiful smooth skin when the homeless guy barged into the alleyway, pushing a rusty shopping trolley filled with his few possessions with one hand and chugging down a beer with the other. I sighed heavily and with an effort, retracted the fangs. One of these nights, I was just going to say "Screw it" and buy some blood from the Kindred-run blood bank. It was only a six block walk from my crappy apartment, for fuck's sake.

The homeless person stopped next us, eyeing us knowingly. His hands shook as he raised the bottle to his lips.

"Gonna do the deed in the dark, are ya, darling?" he said, his voice frail "Old Bill don't get to see much in the way of pretty girls these days. How about you let me watch? Huh?"

My Beast rose up even higher than I'd ever let it before and I bared my fangs at him. "Run," I snarled. My normally pleasant speaking voice turned into a guttural growl, more animal than human. I could smell the urine that splashed down his pants and he ran screaming, trolley forgotten.

By this time, the girl had come most of the way around and was blinking in the half-light. "What...where am I?" I no longer had time to be gentle with her. I rammed the Beast back with an effort of will and forced her head to one side. Her hands beat futilely at me then went limp as I fed.

Her racing heart rate slowed as her blood pressure decreased. My thirst slaked, I gently eased her down to the ground, fully in control of myself again. One of the rats ran over her foot. I sighed again. _Note to self, remember to find a safer place to leave half-exsanguinated girl next time_. If I left her here, some other predator with fewer scruples than a rabid cat would likely rape her to death. Or kill her and then rape her.

I picked up the half-conscious young woman and carried her out of the alley. As we passed back into the streetlights, I saw the smile on her face. I can't explain how or why, but being fed on by a Kindred sends humans into a rather...euphoric state. I looked around for somewhere safe to put her until she could wake up. I decided to take a chance and quickly ran back to the converted church. I jogged up the stone steps and laid her just in front of the doors. Sooner or later, a patron or staff member would find her and all I would be well.


	2. Neutral Ground

2. Neutral Ground

I looked at my watch, the glow in the dark hands telling me it was going on for one AM. Dawn would be around five-ish. I decided to try tracking down Amy, my live-in vampire mentor/guide. That role had been placed upon her by the local vampire government, the Camarilla, after my own sire had been executed for turning me into a vampire without official permission. Despite our close-quarters living arrangements, I hadn't seen much of Amy for a while. She was fairly high up in the Camarilla from what I'd been able to glean from other Kindred and wasn't around much.

I removed my mobile phone from my leather jacket and speed dialled Amy's phone. For a wonder, the woman herself answered.

"Aims!" I said, more glad than I was willing to admit to hear her voice, "What's happening?"  
"Morgan," she replied, "I was just about to call you. There's been a zombie rising and the Camarilla and Anarchs are temporarily putting aside their differences to address the situation."  
"Guh?" My brain had turned to mush right after she said 'zombie rising' and everything else she'd said went right over my head.

She sighed in exasperation and said, "Meet me at the convention centre. A meeting is scheduled for two AM. I would appreciate it if you could attend." She clicked off before I could say yay or nay.

"Zombie rising!" I said and tilted my head back to look at the waxing moon. "Why can't things be simple for once? God, if you're really out there, do you hate me because I'm a...you know or do you just delight in pulling my chain?"

When neither the moon, nor God nor for that matter, Satan replied, I sighed again and headed to where my car was parked.

The convention centre, an impressive looking edifice with manicured gardens lit by spot lights was considered 'neutral ground' and an ideal place for the meeting. The Anarchs, led by the broodingly handsome (OK, so I read a few Mills and Boons) Brujah Bain, would never agree to meet the Camarilla on the Camarilla's turf. And vice versa. I don't know a whole hell of a lot about the vampire politicking but there were three main 'sects' of vampires, all vying for control of the city. The Camarilla, under the leadership of the Tremere Prince Viktor, had recently wrested control from the Anarchs. Rather than attempt an all out war with the Anarchs, Viktor had instead brokered a peace deal, that, like the peace between Israel and Palestine, was usually five minutes away from disintegrating.

The third sect, the Sabbat, didn't much care for the Cam, the Anarchs and especially not humans and were pretty determined to wipe us all out. I hadn't had any dealings with them personally, but I've heard stories.

By the time I'd arrived at the convention centre, the parking lot was full, so I drove past and parked illegally in a loading zone. I knew just enough about Kindred protocol to know that neutral ground, or 'Elysium' as it was called was to be a zone free of weapons. How anybody thought they could stop a Gangrel breaking into full warform or a Malkavian from going batshit was beyond me. But I could be a good girl and not start anything. I opened the boot of the car and placed my .45 and butterfly knife inside. Already nestled in the boot of the Taurus was a twelve gauge pump shotgun, Glock 18 and a Kevlar vest. And I used to be such a nice girl.

I slammed the boot lid shut and jogged back towards the convention centre. I spotted Amy talking with a group of Kindred and went to join them. Amy heard my approach and turned to face me. Her pale skin was dusted with freckles over her nose and her shoulder-length auburn hair had been tied in an elaborate knot above her head. I nodded a greeting to her and the others.

Amy introduced me to the other three Kindred. The taller man, I recognised as a fellow Toreador and, of the others, one was a compact, heavily muscled Gangrel and the last looked deceptively normal. So she had to be a Malk.

"The dark moon rises over a sea of blood and corruption," she said in greeting. I raised an eyebrow and cocked my head at Amy. "That's Clarissa," Amy said. "She's very often a font of great wisdom. If one has the patience to sort through the chaff to find the wheat."

Clarissa smiled slightly, and I could see her fangs. "Such beautiful things spoken by one who is equally beautiful," she said and stroked Amy's face gently. OK then.

"Well, we should go inside and begin," Amy sounded just a touch rattled by that last exchange. As she left, I turned to the other Toreador, "Were those two...together at some point in the past?"

"Word on the street is that Clarissa and Amy were each members of rival merchant families during the eighteen hundreds who..."  
I raised my hand to cut him off, "Let me guess, they fell into a forbidden love that has survived 'til the present? Only now they're in different clans and Clarissa's completely bugfuck crazy?"

The Toreador, Charles looked at me with dark eyes. "Crudely put but essentially correct."

I shrugged and we entered one of the meeting halls.

There were several dozen of the local vamps in attendance, plus many Ghouls - human servants who fed on vampire blood and were dispatched by their masters to take care of issues during the daylight hours. I sat next to Amy and Clarissa in the fifth row and waited for the festivities to begin.

A stage had been hastily erected at the front of the room and Viktor stood there along with his Anarch counterpart, Bain. The two were a study in contrasts - Viktor dressed in a thirties-vintage grey pinstriped suit and had carefully styled hair while Bain sported worn denim jeans, a motorcycle jacket and tattoos. From my fifth-row seat I could see a spider-web tattoo on his neck and a skull on one forearm.

"My fellow Kindred," Viktor began, "I thank you for your attendance at such short notice but as you know, an issue of great importance is before us." Before he could go on, Bain stepped in front of him and said in strong voice, "We don't have time for this politically-correct BS, alright?"

The Anarchs nodded and murmured agreement, the Camarilla vampires glared at Bain for interrupting their Prince.

Personally, I was in favour of moving things along as fast as possible.

I decided to put my hand in and stood up. Amy hissed at me, "What are you doing?" I ignored her and looked at the Prince. I'd met him just once, shortly after my illegal siring but I'd heard he'd been keeping tabs on me. "Morgan," he said. "You wish to speak?"  
"Yes," I began, aware of the eyes on me. I hate public speaking. "I feel we should perhaps move straight to the..." I took a deep breath and couldn't believe I was saying it, "zombie rising. Before we're all up to our asses in rotting corpses." I sat down quickly and felt the Camarilla vamps glaring at me. Ooops. The Anarchs seemed to be evaluating me, possibly as a potential ally.

"Very well, let us begin," Viktor said. Bain looked across at me and nodded.

"What we know so far is that Kindred in the area have reported seeing zombies rising from the ground at night. So far all they've done is shuffle around the confines of their respective cemeteries..." Before Viktor could go on, Bain broke in, "So we gotta put those sick fucks down now before they start shambling up and down the street, munching on the kine!"

All around came murmurs of support. Even a few of the Cam Kindred were nodding along. Bain may have been a rough edged hooligan - at least according to them but the man spoke truth.

"Yes, indeed. This is a great threat to the Masquerade," Viktor said, attempting to take back control of the proceedings. Good luck with that.  
"Enough talk!" shouted an Anarch Brujah, "We gotta hit the fuckin' boneyards and cap every son of a bitch that sticks its head out of the ground!"

"Yeah!" came shouts of support. Beside me, Amy shook her head. Beside Amy, Clarissa was resting her head on Amy's shoulder and stroking her arm.

Bain let his people go on a bit longer then shouted "That's enough!" They shut up and paid attention. Neat trick.

Without going into all the boring details, it was decided to break into groups to cover the three cemeteries in the local area. The goal was simple: eliminate the zombies and stop them from escaping into the city. I smiled slightly as I pictured shambling undead limping after people and saying "BRAAAIIIINNNNSSSS"

I decided to stick with Amy, Clarissa and Charles. Three other Kindred drifted over to join our group. We'd be heading for the St Joseph's Cemetery of Eternal Rest of whatever it was called. The three newcomers were all Japanese but I couldn't tell what clan they were from. There were two women, twins who appeared to be about 30. They could have been three hundred for all I knew. They were dressed identically in black jeans and leather overcoats. The third guy was fairly tall and looked about fifty. Something told me that he was their Sire.

Amy did the introductions. My, but she was a popular girl. "Tomiko and Tomoe Nakamura and their Sire," _bingo _"Hoshi Kazue." I shook hands with them. Then I decided to bow to the elder vampire. He seemed to appreciate it.

"We only have a few hours until dawn so, gear up and meet us at the cemetery," Charles said. As I turned to leave, Charles asked, "Do you need any equipment?"  
"Depends," I said, "Do you have any chainsaws?" He just blinked at me.

"You know, zombies, chainsaws." Still nothing.

"Bruce Campbell? Evil Dead?" He shook his head.

"Fucking Philistine," I muttered and made for car.


	3. All Outta Gum

3. All Outta Gum

I'd seen enough zombie films in my twenty-eight years as a mortal to know the basics. Shoot them in their brain or cut off the head. I just hoped to hell the movies hadn't screwed up that piece of lore the way they had screwed up practically every bit of vampire lore. Unfortunately I was a little light on the cutting implements. My knife wouldn't be large enough to make an effective zombie-head trimmer and I had limited ammunition. Certainly not enough to cap an entire cemetery of undead.

I got into the car and tapped my fingers against the steering wheel, thinking. _Fuck it_ I thought. I'll improvise.

I drove rapidly, the early-morning streets free of heavy traffic and soon arrived at the cemetery. Already I could hear inhuman groans rising from inside. I killed the engine and went around to the boot. I strapped on the vest, slung the shotgun over my shoulder, holstered the forty-five and flipped the knife open. As I turned away from the car, a black SUV pulled up and the three Japanese Kindred piled out. The twins opened the rear doors and I could see a veritable arsenal of gear back there. Automatic rifles, pistols, shotguns, fire-axes, katanas and yes, a fucking chainsaw. _All right_. As I approached, the twins began arming themselves with katanas and heavy-calibre handguns. A thought occurred to me. "Won't all this shooting draw the cops?"

"That is a risk we must take," one of the twins, it might have been Tomoe said.

"Sword?" the other twin offered me a katana, handle first. I took it and swung it around experimentally then nodded to the chainsaw. "Could I borrow that as well?"  
"Of course. But please wipe the blood off when you are finished."

I hefted the chainsaw and felt a huge grin spread over my face. All I needed now was a sawn-off shotgun and I'd be ready to channel Ash from Army of Darkness.

Amy arrived shortly after with Clarissa. The Malkavian was dressed in an antique-looking corset and long skirts that swirled around the damp grass. The riot gun she cradled to her chest like a baby seemed weirdly appropriate. Amy was also packing a shotgun, a bandolier of shells across her chest.

I turned to the cemetery gates and said, "It's time to kick ass and chew bubblegum." I pushed the gates open and finished the immortal line, "and I'm all outta gum."

Inside the cemetery, there was just enough moonlight for my enhanced vision to see the undead crawling out of the ground and staggering around mindlessly. A clod of earth over a grave to my left began to move. It moved again and a skeletal hand with shreds of rotten skin burst forth. I swung the katana and the hand came off the wrist, twitching. A second hand clawed its way out and I cut if off too. "Try getting out of your grave now, you undead fuck." _Hello, pot, kettle_ a voice in my head said.

The other vamps with me spread through the graveyard, capping zombies and slicing off heads and limbs.

A zombie, clad in mouldering clothes and with beetles in its muddy hair reached out to grab my arm. I jammed the knife into its throat. It had exactly zero effect. I yanked the blade out and ducked a swipe of its filthy hands. I swept my feet through its ankles and it fell hard onto its back. I finished the job with a shotgun blast to the head.

"Behind you!" Amy yelled. I turned half-way around and caught a solid fist to my face. I felt the cheekbone crack and cried out. The zombie, a big guy who must've worked out a lot swung again. I dropped the shotgun and swept the chainsaw off the ground. It started on the first pull of the starter cable and roared nicely. Chainsaw blade, meet fist. The fist sailed into the air and the zombie drew back, roaring. I swung the chainsaw at its head and took half of it off. Apparently half the head is only half the job and it staggered towards me again.

I jammed the blade into the ruin that was zombie-boy's face and was spattered with gore and bits of bone fragments. Finally it dropped.

My immediate area clear, I surveyed the rest of the cemetery. Amy and Clarissa were standing back to back, blowing away zombies left and right. Amy's shotgun ran dry and she removed her handgun. Clarissa's wide blue eyes were agleam with joyful exuberance as she laid waste to the shambling mounds of former humanity. I took up my blade and headed back into the fray.


	4. A Lead

4. A Lead

By about half-past four we had the situation wrapped up. All the zombies were accounted for. That just left the piles of corpses and body parts lying around. I glanced at my watch and then at the moon. It was quite low in the sky now, as the new day approached. "We're not gonna have time to clean up this mess," I told Amy.

"I agree. I'll send for some ghouls to handle the clean up," she said and flipped open her phone.

I picked up the blood spattered chainsaw and katana and rinsed them out as best I could under a tap near the cemetery gates. I returned to the SUV where the three Japanese Kindred were packing up their gear. "Nice working with you," I said as I handed back the weapons. From what little I'd seen of them, the girls and their Sire had seemed to move as fluidly as movie Ninjas.

"And with you, Morgan-san," one of the twins replied.

As they drove off into the rapidly-departing night, I turned to see Amy on the phone. As she hung up, I wandered over to join her. "The ghouls will be here soon. And the Camarilla will see to it that no reports of gunfire or walking dead reach the local media."

"Good, great. I'll see you later at the apartment, I guess." I needed a bath in the worst way. As I turned to go, Amy placed a hand on my shoulder.

"I apologise for not being around much these last nights," she said. "And if I've treated you in my role as your mentor with any kind of disdain, know that I'm sorry for that as well." I turned to face her and looked into her green eyes.

"Apology accepted. Now go spend some quality time with your girlfriend over there," I jerked my head to where Clarissa was walking among the head stones, her skirts swirling around her ankles. A look of childlike innocence was on her face as she stopped to look up at the moon. Amy turned and regarded the Malkavian. "She is special to me, yes. But it is not something as simple as being 'girlfriends.'" Amy went to join Clarissa and I went to join my car.

Back at the apartment, it was almost five. I could feel the coming dawn dragging me towards the coma-like state that passed for sleep among Kindred. But I was so not going to bed looking like I'd stepped off the set of Shaun of The Dead. My leather jacket could be cleaned easily enough but the T-shirt bearing the words Stop Staring at my Boobs was a lost cause. I was really pissed off about that. If we ever found out who was responsible for raising the dead, I was going extract the thirty-five dollars it would cost to replace the shirt from their personal account before putting a bullet or ten into them.

I cursed as I felt the weariness threaten to overtake me. No time for that bath, I had to make do with a shower turned up as hot as I could stand it. Even after I was tucked up in my bathrobe, I could still smell the faint undead taint on my skin. I got into my single bed and bade the day adieu.

The following night, I could sense number of presences in the room with me even before my eyes flicked open. Amy sat by my bed along with Clarissa who looked quite radiant. Along with them was a third Kindred, a hulking Nosferatu with twisted features and yellow eyes. The pupils were vertical slits. I managed to avoid making an ass of myself by screaming and instead settled for asking, "What are you guys doing here?"

It was the Nosferatu who spoke, his voice grating like dirt stuck in the hinges of a door. "My Clan has discovered information regarding the source of the rising dead."

"That's nice, but it doesn't explain what you're doing in my room," I said as I sat up. I felt a strong urge to pull the robe tighter across my chest. Amy said, "Steven here feels that the Nosferatu cannot trust the Camarilla as a whole with this information."  
"You think it's a member of the Camarilla who did this?" I asked. Nods all around. _Fuck_.

"So why come to us?" I asked and glanced at Amy.

"You've proven yourself to us on more than one occasion and the fact that you know almost nothing about the ebb and flow of Kindred politics puts you above suspicion," Amy explained. "As for my presence, Clarissa has...had insights into the situation and feels that only we four," she gestured at us all, "Can possibly defeat the threat."  
Oh the joy!

"Fuck me," I muttered and ran a hand through my sleep-mussed black hair. I turned to look at the Nosferatu, and asked, "What kind of information have your guys dug up?"

"Raising zombies isn't a simple thing..."  
"Well _obviously!"_

"Shut the fuck _up_," the Nosferatu barked. Amy tried to suppress a smile but couldn't quite manage. The bitch.

"Of all the clans in this city, only the Tremere possess the knowledge of raising the undead we saw."  
"But the Prince is Tremere," I said, stating the obvious. I looked helplessly at Amy and Clarissa. Technically, the Prince was my boss. I was alive only 'cause he'd made it so. If he was behind this...would I be forced to kill the guy who saved me?

Then Clarissa spoke up, her blue eyes staring through the boarded up windows. "Little dead-raiser not part of the Pyramid of Viktor's blood."

"Interesting..." the Nosferatu said, stroking a long clawed finger against his chin.

"What's she mean?"

"I believe our Malkavian friend here has had an insight into the nature of our...little dead-raiser."

"Which would be..." I trailed off and sat back on the bed. I immediately got back up, the springs creaking.

"I expect you don't know about Tremere clan structures," Amy answered. I shook my head. She'd taken on the tone of voice she used when lecturing me about Kindred life.

"The Tremere are very insular and tend to hold themselves apart from other clans. Their internal social structure is called The Pyramid. They carefully select those they Embrace and only those within the Pyramid are able to Sire."  
"So what you're saying is that this Tremere isn't a part of the local Pyramid?"  
"Most likely," the Nosferatu confirmed. I relaxed slightly. Chances were the Prince had nothing to do with it.

"Do we have any way of tracking any new vamps who've come into town recently? Could be one of them's our guy."

"My, but she is a quick study, isn't she?" Steven the Nosferatu said and smiled. It made him look even uglier. "I have already acquired a list of arrivals into the city in the last six months." He produced a sheet of paper, a computer printout and we all looked at it.

The list comprised six names and locations. Two were Ventrue from New York who'd come to pledge fealty to the new Prince. "Toadlickers," Steven said dismissively.

The third was an Anarch Gangrel, late of Arizona who'd been seen in the company of Bain and his crew.

The fourth was an unaligned Toreador. She'd made a courtesy visit to the Prince and he'd allowed her to operate in the city so long as she followed the local rules. Last seen brokering deals at an art auction.

The fifth was a Brujah, again not aligned with any sect. Apparently he'd been linked to the recent...difficulties the Camarilla had experienced in LA and may even have been responsible for the death of the LA Prince, LaCroix. He'd kept his head down though and had no contact with anybody of note.

And the sixth...what a surprise! A Tremere. Only been in town a few months and had apparently been turned away from the local Chantry, the gathering place for Tremere Kindred. That had to have pissed him off.

"Hang on. If we have this info and have a possible lead on this Tremere, why haven't the Tremere themselves taken care of the problem?" I asked.

Steven spat on the floor. I raised an eyebrow. "You're cleaning that up."  
"Fucking Clan politics," he said. "They don't wanna get involved because they see it as not being their problem. Not from their Pyramid, ergo, not their problem. Fucking pricks."

"Great. So what do we do about it?"

Clarissa spoke again, more of that eerie Malkavian fortune-telling shit. "Seek out the maker of clocks. Find you there answers you seek."

"Maker of clocks? A watchmaker?" Clarissa shook her head, a strand of dark hair falling across her eyes. She took the strand and twirled it around a finger, gazing raptly at it.

"A clock factory?" I tried again. Another head shake.

"There's a small electronics manufacturing plant just out of town...they make digital clocks." Amy said quietly.

Clarissa nodded, still twirling the hair.

"I'll send some of our ghouls to recon the area during the daylight, assess our guy's setup and defenses." Steven said and made to leave.

"What about us?" I asked and waved a hand to include Amy and Clarissa.

"Do what you people always do." Steven shrugged. "We'll be in touch." His Obfuscation Discipline rendered him invisible and his footsteps faded as he left the apartment.

He hadn't cleaned the floor, either. Bastard.


	5. Making a List

5. Making a List

Steven had promised to contact us the next night after his ghouls reported in. Amy and Clarissa left the apartment to go spend some alone time with each other at one of the Camarilla's local hotels. That left me in the apartment to cool my heels. I needed something to do and after the heavy action of the night before, I needed to feed again. First things first, though. I quickly smoothed the covers of the bed and got dressed in my usual ensemble of jeans, jacket and T-shirt with smart-ass slogan on the front. Tonight's read 10 Sweetheart, 90 Bitch.

Thus attired, I sat down at the kitchen table with a pencil and pad of notepaper and made out a list. I like lists, they help me focus. Top of the list I wrote Guns + Ammo. I was down to precisely three shotgun shells and half a mag for the .45.

I checked my wallet and found I had fifty-three dollars and change. Which would buy me an amount of ammo roughly between jack shit and doodly squat. Now here's a thing none of the vampire movies and books ever mention - money. You can't work a normal 9-5 job for obvious reasons. And most night-shift jobs - security guard for instance usually require you to undertake a job interview...during the day.

The Nosferatu were heavily into credit card fraud which allowed many Kindred to buy most of the stuff they needed online. But try dealing with the local black market arms dealer with a credit card. Never gonna happen.

So, no job, no easy line of ready cash. I had nothing of value worth hocking at the 24 hour pawn shop either, having sold them my last few pieces of jewellery a few months back.

At the top of my revised list, I wrote Get Cash. I decided to take a drive down to the seedier areas of town. And in a town that is almost all seedy, seedier usually meant dive bars populated by gangbangers and streets with drug-fucked sixteen year old hookers on every corner. Drug-fucked hookers meant pimps. Pimps meant cash. Connect the dots.

I left the apartment and went down to the garage. Getting behind the wheel of my car, I realised I needed petrol on top of everything else. And with the price of oil being what it is today, fifty-three bucks would buy me maybe a tenth of a tank of fuel. I released the wheel before striking it with a fist. The horn bipped in protest. I decided to get a bus instead.

Reliable public transport is as rare a thing these days as honest politicians - that is to say, extremely fucking rare. The timetable at the bus stop assured me there'd be a bus going where I wanted to at 8.15pm. I had arrived bang on 8.10pm. Five minutes passed and then ten with no bus. I stood with my hands shoved deep in my pockets while the Beast got steadily more and more pissed off. I counted myself lucky I wasn't Brujah or Gangrel - _their_ Beasts were almost always a heartbeat away from slipping the chain and going berserk.

I hate waiting around at the best of times, which this wasn't. Somewhere around here there was probably a Tremere, feeling left out because the local Chantry had told him to piss off and plotting revenge by zombie.

Finally, twenty-five minutes late, the damn bus arrived. There were two other souls aboard, besides the driver. And vampire makes three. I got on and paid the fare.

The bus driver pulled over by the side of the road in the part of town you definitely wouldn't want to be alone in at night. If you were human at least. I got out and started to walk without looking back.

Soon enough I was passing by run down and boarded up buildings, bars overflowing with mean drunks and teenage hookers on street corners dressed in boob tubes and microskirts. Most of them had bruises from being belted up by either the customers or their pimps. All of them bore needle track marks. I walked up to one, an older girl of about eighteen with hollow eyes and a fading bruise over her left cheek. A cigarette jittered up and down from her chapped lips, spilling ashes down her front. She didn't seem to notice. I could tell she had been extremely pretty once - maybe only a few months ago. Now, the spark of life and enthusiasm had been snuffed out by the bastard who'd gotten her hooked on smack and forced her to whore herself to survive.

She dragged on the cigarette and said in a voice barely above a whisper, "What can I do for you, sweetheart?"  
"I want to meet your pimp," I said quietly. Her eyes went wide with fear.

"Nuh-uh," she said and shook her head, "Nobody deals with him."  
"I'm going to deal with him. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"He'll kill you, then beat me half to death and force me back to work still bleeding," she said and began to cry quietly.

I could tell she wasn't going to be able to help so I started to leave.

"The fuck is going on here?" a voice called out. The girl cringed and cried harder. Well, well, the 'man' himself.

"Bitch, why ain't you out spreading your skinny legs like you being paid to?"  
"Because she's getting out of the game, and I'm taking her away from here," I said to the man, a little weaselly faced prick with slicked back black hair and a little moustache that looked like a caterpillar had crawled onto his upper lip and died there.

"Bitch, this ain't none 'o bidness!" He strode towards me, light from the nearby streetlamps glinting on his heavy gold rings.

"I'm making it my business," I said and eased my hand behind my back to reach my pistol. All I needed was a single round. The guy was quick, I have to give him that much. Before my fingers could close on the gun, he whipped out a cheap-looking nickel plated .38 and snapped off two shots. Both rounds got me in the stomach, making neat little holes in one of my favourite shirts. A small amount of blood oozed out then the wounds quickly healed over.

"What th' fuuuuck?" he said. The girl was near hysterical by now. He whirled around and backhanded her across the face, busting her lips. "Shut up, bitch!" She fell hard.

Oh but that tore it. I burned a bit of my vitae and kicked my Celerity Discipline into high gear. An onlooker would have seen a blur of motion swarm over the pimp and begin beating him senseless. A dull crack signalled the wrist of his gun hand breaking. He screamed shrilly. Another crack marked his other arm breaking. Another scream. Oh but the Beast was enjoying this hugely.

I dimly saw the girl get to her feet and run. With no other onlookers, I was free to clamp my jaws over his sweating neck and drain the cowardly prick dry.

So I did.

Standing over the now-pale corpse, I felt equal parts glad and sad. Glad that I'd removed this oxygen thief from existence _and_ gotten my feed. Sad because that poor, terrified girl would be desperately seeking a new pimp and new drug supply. I shook my head sadly. I hoped I hadn't made life worse for her, I really did. I crouched over the body to pat it down and came across a fat snakeskin wallet bulging with cash. A quick count revealed over a grand. I shook my head again. Rightfully, this belonged to the girl.

I turned and headed back to the bus stop. Of course, this late in the evening, there would be no more buses and I wasn't going to waste money on a cab. Not that any would come into this part of town. I turned back and crossed the street to where I'd exsanguinated pimp-boy. Found a set of keys. The keys belonged to a beat up Camry parked a short distance away, outside a stripjoint. I unlocked the pimpmobile and got behind the wheel. Tried to ignore greasy fast food wrappers in the passenger side footwell and the smell of weed. I turned the key in the ignition and smiled as the needle of the fuel gauge swung around to the F. I didn't much fancy the taste of petrol but I figured I could stand it if siphoning off the guy's tank into my car meant free fuel.

I drove back to the more civilised part of town and stopped outside the apartment block where my usual arms supplier lived. I slammed the door of the car and checked to make sure it was locked. Didn't want to lose my free fuel, after all. At the door to the apartment, I pressed the buzzer for the fifth floor room.

"Yeah?" the voice sounded from the tinny speaker.

"It's Morgan Greenfield. I came to buy some...items." I'd dealt with this guy several times since I'd been Embraced. He didn't know it but about half of his client-base was either a Kindred or worked for one.

"Show me some ID," he said. I rolled my eyes. Paranoid fantasies and this guy were kissing cousins.

I fished my expired driver's license out of my newly filled wallet and held it up to the small camera over the door. A few seconds later the door clicked and I pushed it open. I shut the door behind me and zipped up the jacket enough to hide the bullet holes over my stomach.

I took the stairs to the fifth floor apartment and hammered on the door.

"Whozit?" he asked. Oy.

"Morgan. You buzzed me in two minutes ago," I said.

"Slide your ID under the door," he replied.

"Oh for fuck's _sake_," I said. "Fine." I dug the photo ID out again and slid it under the door.

"You realise this license expired six months ago?" He asked. The god damn door was still closed.

"And you're going to dob me into the cops?"  
"No, just thought you should know," he said and finally opened the door.

He looked nervously around as I entered the apartment. He was a wiry little guy, about five-seven and looked like he might work in an accounting firm - white business shirt and tie, blue slacks.

"So, what can old Jimmy do for you?" he said.

"I need a some boxes of double-ought buck and some mags for a .45 Colt." He left the room and came back soon after with boxes of ammo. We dickered over the price for a while before I paid him.

"Nice doing business with you, Morgan," he said.

Back at the apartment car park, I pulled the pimpmobile up next to my ageing Taurus and got out. I removed a length of rubber tubing from the boot of my car and unscrewed the fuel cap of the pimpmobile. I fed the tube into the Camry's fuel tank and steeled myself for the next bit. I sucked on the tube until I tasted petrol then quickly jammed the other end of the pipe into my own car's fuel tank. Spent the next three minutes spitting out petrol-flavoured saliva. Ick.


	6. Whacked

6. Whacked

I spent the rest of that night with my feet propped up on the foot stool watching DVDs of vampire flicks and counting the number of ways they screwed up the lore. I lost track after the first five hundred or so. The phone rang and I answered it, hoping it'd be Steven even though his day-shift boys would still be asleep.

"Morgan's House of Prostitution," I said and smiled to myself.

"Morgan, it's Amy," she sounded even less amused than usual. Whatever had caused her to call must have been very bad indeed.

"What is it this time?" I asked and clicked off the TV. Underworld and Kate Beckinsale would have to wait.

"It's the Sabbat. They've attempted an assasination against the Ventrue Primogen," Amy said.

Now, it's like this: Each Clan in a particular city elects a 'Primogen', usually an elder of that clan to represent the clan's interests in the Camarilla. In practice it's an old boys' club where members trade favours and generally try to fuck each other over to further their own agendas. That the Sabbat had tried to whack a Primogen told me that the Sabbat were growing bolder. Or stupider.

I sighed heavily and dropped my head back against the seat cushions. I closed my eyes. "And the Prince wants us to strike back at the Sabbat in retaliation?" This sort of tit for tat fighting goes on all the time between the Cam and the Sabbat. Only this time it would be close to all out war.

"Indeed," Amy said. "Meet us at Memorial Park as soon as you can."  
"Ja vole, mein Commandant!" I snapped in my very best Sergeant Schultz impersonation and hung up. "Another fun and exciting night in the unlife of Morgan Greenfield," I muttered and got up.

Up 'til now, I'd had no direct dealings with the Sabbat. They were your basic blood-thirsty movie villain vampire. They tended to hunt in packs and cared not one whit for the Camarilla, the Anarchs or the Masquerade. They didn't care if humans knew of our existence: in fact their aim was basically to enslave all humans and use them as cattle. It'd make feeding a lot easier, I thought.. Just go out into the paddock and bleed a human.

I hadn't had many dealings with the Ventrue either. Though Ventrue and we Toreador tended to get on well. Ventrue took very seriously the Masquerade and were often in positions of leadership among the Clans. Most Princes are Ventrue. Not always though. So the fact that the Sabbat had taken a shot at the highest-ranked local Ventrue had their whole clan pissed off I guessed.

So, another round of vampire on vampire violence. Great. I remember the time I was sent against a renegade Gangrel - it had taken both me and Amy to bring him down and even then it had been a near thing. I was stronger now though. Of course there would be more vamps to deal with.

I went to my room to change my clothes. I was fairly handy with a needle and thread and could probably patch up my T-shirt - if I replaced it with one I didn't mind being wrecked. I threw on an old grey hoodie and strapped on the bullet proof vest. Then I strapped on the holster for my forty-five and picked up the twelve-gauge.

I paused on the way out of my room to snag my knife and Glock 18. I wished I had that chainsaw from the night of the zombies.

I left the apartment and jogged back down to the garage. This was getting habit-forming. Fifteen minutes later, I pulled up outside Memorial Park. Clouds had obscured the moon and there wasn't much light to see by. A short distance away I could see the familiar outline of Amy's Chevy Impala. As I watched, the doors opened and she and Clarissa emerged. Clarissa wore a gorgeous-looking ball gown and appeared to be hauling around quite the arsenal. A shotgun was held in her arms and she wore holsters over both shoulders and hips. Amy held what looked like a medieval sword I'd never seen before in one hand and a machine pistol in the other.

Heading into the park were more Kindred and ghouls than I'd ever seen in one place before now.

I got out of the car, pulling the shotgun after me.

"So, what's the deal?" I asked Amy as I caught up to them.

"The Sabbat openly attacked a convoy of vehicles carrying the Ventrue Primogen to a meeting of his clan. He survived but others in his service did not. The Camarilla is vowing revenge."  
"OK and if we settle things with the Sabbat who attacked him, won't they just strike back at us?" I asked.

"If we do nothing, it will serve to make them bolder and we can expect more attacks. So we have decided to strike one of their haunts. And annihilate any and all Sabbat we find there."

Clarissa whispered, "Peace or annihilation." The look on her face would best be described as 'joyfully homicidal.' Hell, that's Malkavians for you.

"If I could have everybody's attention?" A Kindred called out from the front of the crowd.

"I am Felipe Deneuve of the Ventrue. The Sabbat attempted to murder my Sire and I have called you here tonight to exact a heavy penalty for that transgression." Nods and murmured support all around. Apparently having your Sire almost whacked was quite a touchy issue. I wouldn't know, the Camarilla having executed my Sire after he'd Embraced me without their permission. Ouch.

"A ghoul in our service tracked the Sabbat to their lair. It is a short distance away. They are gathered at the Smoking Pipe Inn."  
You gotta feel sorry for any kine that decided to stop there for a drink, I thought.

"We estimate there are twenty Sabbat and their followers within," Felipe said. I looked around us. We had at least three times that amount. Still, they had a reputation for fighting like rabid pitbulls. Rabid pitbulls on crack even.

I put my hand up. Heads swivelled towards me. Felipe nodded at me, saying, "You are Morgan Greenfield, yes?"  
"I am," I replied. "What's our plan of attack here? Storm the place? I imagine they'd know we're coming."

"We are going to try flushing them out. With molotov cocktails. They will run for the exits. Each of which will be covered by groups of Kindred."

I smiled. Those that made it out would be gunned down and sliced apart in seconds. Those that didn't...well vamps and fire don't mix real good.

The Ventrue gestured at the back of a van parked nearby. "Equip yourselves with firebombs and we shall depart."

I stopped by the van and grabbed a pair of petrol filled bottles with fuel-soaked rags in the necks. As I turned to leave, Felipe touched my arm. I turned to him.

"I knew your Sire," he said sadly. "A man with a great heart but he always defied the laws of our kind, pushed the boundaries. The night he Sired you, well. The Prince could no longer overlook his behaviour. I am sorry."  
He seemed genuinely apologetic for it. I laid my own hand on his arm and looked into his brown eyes. "Apology accepted. Sounds like he'd have gotten himself smoked sooner or later anyway."  
"Yes, this is true. But we should depart. Would you like to travel with me and my retinue?"  
_Retinue?_He gestured to several other Kindred and ghouls nearby. Past them was a black BMW 7 series luxury sedan. "That your ride?" I asked. He nodded. I looked from my old Ford to the BMW and back again. Hmmm, chauffeur driven luxury transport or crappy ten year old car with peeling paint and busted tail lights?  
"I believe I shall travel with you and your retinue." I smiled as he took my arm and led me to his car. His crew fell into step around us. Apparently being the childe of a Primogen has privileges.


	7. Ashes to Ashes

7. Ashes to Ashes

Felipe and I chatted idly about this and that during the trip to Smoking Pipe Inn. Soon to be the Torched to The Ground Inn. Hoped we got out of there before the fire trucks arrived. Felipe seemed altogether too interested in me and my history. Do vampires do dating? The thought was too weird. I had enough to deal with without having to worry about going out with a Ventrue princeling.

As we arrived outside the Inn, my Beast began to stir. It was looking forward to an encounter with the Sabbat. Blood memories of past feuds, wars and injustices brewed within me. Felipe seemed to sense it. "Do not lose control. I would hate for you to become the very animals we are hunting."

"Don't worry about me. This girl has her Beast on a damn short leash." Even as I said it, my fangs lengthened in anticipation of the blood-letting.

I got out of the car, hefted my shotgun and grabbed my two firebombs by the bottle necks with my free hand.

Beside us, Amy's car pulled in. She and Clarissa got out. "Hey Aims," I called. She turned to look at me. "Be careful, alright?"  
"And you as well," she said. As I headed towards the front of the Inn, a familiar black SUV arrived. Tomoe and Tomiko and their Sire had arrived.

"Alright," I glanced at Felipe, a thirties-era Thompson gun in his hands, "Let's rock."

Kindred surrounded the building and soon firebombs arced into the windows and onto the shingled roof, setting it ablaze. I lit one of my cocktails and carefully aimed at a busted front window.

The flaming bottle arced in and quite by accident, smashed open on the broad back of a Sabbat vampire. Instantly he was engulfed in flames and began flailing around the room, setting the bar on fire. Then he dropped out of sight in a puff of ash. I tossed the second firebomb in through the same window. It landed behind the bar and more flames went up.

The front doors burst open and three or four Sabbat stormed out, howling and screaming battle cries. Beside me Felipe opened up with his mob-era Tommy gun and one of them went down. I unloaded a shotgun blast at a second. It fell back with half the face blown off. Blood washed down its chest but even as I watched, the flesh began to heal over. A third Sabbat lunged at me, claws gouging furrows in my bulletproof vest. I second swipe raked across my forehead. Blood welled up but the wounds closed over almost instantly. I slammed the stock of the shotgun into the Sabbat's face and as it reeled away, I pressed the muzzle against the forehead and blew its brains out. The body fell and turned to ash.

All around me I could hear gunfire, screams, and in the distance, sirens approaching. Firetrucks and cops. Joy!

A cry of pain caused my head to whip around. Felipe was on the ground, bleeding heavily from multiple slashes across his chest. He was pinned down by two ghouls while a third hammered his pretty face into a bloody pulp. I reversed the grip on my shotgun, holding it by the barrel like a baseball bat as I approached them. The ghoul donating the beat-down looked up. I swung the weapon with all the force I possessed. Which these nights is quite a bit. The ghoul's skull shattered. Likewise the gun butt. The other two got up to face me, turning their backs on Felipe. Big mistake. He rose to his feet shakily and latched onto the neck of one ghoul from behind. Drained him empty. By the time he'd finished, the infusion of fresh blood had healed him completely and the surviving ghoul was trapped between two fit and healthy vamps. I looked over the ghoul's shoulder at Felipe. "This one's yours," I said. The ghoul turned to face Felipe who waded in, ablaze with his Presence and protected by his Fortitude Discipline. The poor bastard had no chance.

I turned away from the sight of Felipe eviscerating the unfortunate ghoul and surveyed the scenery. Red and orange flames blazed inside the Inn and threatened to spread. The darkness of the night was banished by the fierce light and I could feel the heat against my skin. Nothing could have gotten out of there. I looked for Amy and saw her with Clarissa - the latter's gown torn to ribbons and her lips smeared with somebody's blood. They were standing in a thick layer of ashes calmly reloading their weapons.  
"Did we lose anybody?" I asked.

"None of our number have passed through the gates of Valhalla," Clarissa said. I'd heard somewhere that Valhalla was the place where dead Vikings went after they died. So I'm guessing nobody died. Or re-died.

"I'm thinking we should leave now, before the cops get here."

The high-pitched sirens grew nearer even as I spoke. I turned back to Felipe and his boys. They seemed to be in a godawful hurry to get out of dodge. Felipe hadn't even thanked me for saving his life before. "Well, there goes my ride," I said aloud as the BMW roared off.

"Come with us," Amy said. As I got squeezed into the rear seat of the Impala, I realised I was still clutching my shattered-stock shotgun. I removed the remaining shells and lobbed the broken weapon into the nearest pile of flaming debris. Let the CSI guys go nuts.

"We should report in to the Prince," Amy said as she burned rubber on the way out. For such a staid-seeming prim and proper lady vampire, the woman drove like a bat out of hell when the mood took her. Like now. Just as we departed, the first of the fire trucks and police cruisers arrived.

"You know, they have these things called 'telephones,' now," I replied as she turned the car towards downtown.

"News of this import must be delivered in person," she replied, looking at me in the mirror. I rolled my eyes. "Fine, whatever." I rested my head on the seat-back and closed my eyes. I wished I could sleep for a few minutes. But aside from going comatose from dawn til dusk, I don't need to sleep anymore.


	8. Reanimated

8. Reanimated

Thanks to Amy's driving, we quickly arrived at the building Prince Viktor operated out of. To one unaware of our existence, it was just another anonymous highrise among dozens of others. We got out and the few passers-by on the street gave us a wide berth. I think it had something to do with Clarissa's blood-stained, ripped to shreds gown. But it could have been the riot gun she still held in her hands. "Better let me put that away for now," I said gently and she released it without protest. I slid it as far as it would go under the front seat.

In silence we walked through the deserted lobby to the elevator banks. Amy selected a small key from her keyring and inserted it in a slot above the ranks of lift buttons inside the elevator car. The elevator soon arrived at the penthouse level.

"You can stay here if you wish," Amy said. I nodded. As she and Clarissa headed to the penthouse door I called them back. They turned, looking at me expectantly.

"See if you can work the matter of our Tremere hell raiser into the conversation. Maybe the Prince will be willing to give us some backup." Amy nodded.  
"I shall try," she didn't seem real confident. Great.

I sat down on the tiled floor and leaned against the wall, my knees drawn up to my chest and waited.

After what felt like an age, Amy and Clarissa returned. Amy said "The Prince passes along the thanks of the Ventrue Primogen." I stood up and replied, "And?..."  
"And he says to congratulate you on your willingness to protect the Camarilla against its enemies." I rolled my eyes.

"What about the Tremere?"

Amy shook her head. I swore and punched the wall in frustration. My fist slammed a hole through the plaster and I felt a couple of fingers break. Which didn't help my temper one bit. I removed the hand, coated with plaster dust and looked at the way the first two fingers were bent in an unnatural fashion.

Clarissa gently took my hand and reset the bones. I winced as they snapped into place.

"Thanks." She just nodded.

"So, what now?"

Amy shrugged, frustrated. "I guess we go home and wait for Steven to contact us."  
I sighed. It seemed like ever since my Embrace, it was a case of wait around for another crisis to erupt. But what else could I do? We re-entered the elevator and rode back down. As we got back in the car, I asked Amy to drop me back at the park where I had left my car. And I still needed a new shotgun.

Thankfully nobody had stripped my car while it was left alone. I quickly unlocked it and got in. I checked my watch and saw it was well after midnight. I drove back to the apartment to find that Amy wasn't back yet. Wearily I went to my small bedroom, peeled off the gouged bullet proof vest and wrinkled my nose at the smoky smell. I returned to the living room and decided to check my emails. Besides the usual spam for penis enlargements and Viagra, there was an email from Felipe - Amy must have given him my details at some point. He apologised profusely for leaving me but felt that he should return to his Sire as soon as possible. He even offered to replace the shotgun I'd busted up saving him. How sweet.

As I moved to shut off the laptop, another email landed in my inbox. This one bore the address of the Nosferatu network. Steven letting us know he'd have some hard intel tomorrow night and would see us personally. I picked up my phone and speed dialled Amy. Got her answering service. "Steven dropped me a line. Says he'll come by tomorrow with more details on the...issue." I clicked off. Checked my watch again. One AM. Dawn four and bit hours away. I got up and paced restlessly around the apartment. I picked up the TV remote and found an all news channel. The destruction of a certain Inn was the lead story. Investigators suspected arson but had no solid leads at present. No survivors had been found so far. Good news. Another report began, something about cadavers going missing from hospital morgues and funeral homes. I sat bolt upright in my seat. _Fuck._

The new anchor reported that police suspected the bodies had been stolen as a prank and were asking for any information on their whereabouts.

It had to be the Tremere. He was snatching bodies to reanimate as zombies. I went online and found a link to the news story. Emailed that to the Nosferatu but if they were half as good at intelligence gathering as they claimed, they would be all over this already.

I speed dialled Amy again. Got her answering service again. "Turn on the fucking news!" I screamed down the line before clicking off.

I sat brooding until it was almost dawn then went to sleep. Could things get any worse?


	9. Beginning of the End

9. Beginning of The End

My eyes snapped open as dusk fell the following night and immediately I sensed Amy's presence in the apartment. Hers and Steven's. The Nosferatu was as good as his word, though how he always managed to get here before I woke up was a bit of a mystery to me.

I swung my legs over the end of the bed and got up. I hadn't bothered to change clothes after last night so I just pushed through the door and went into the main room. Amy and Steven were talking over the situation.

"Things are worse than we feared, Morgan," Amy said.

"If you mean the missing corpses, I already know," I replied. "So what do we do?"  
Steven turned to me, "Our boys have scouted out the Tremere's location. It's an old warehouse outside of town, maybe a coupla hours' drive. He has a number of human servants...plus the undead corpses they've been stealing for him."  
"Oh what joy!" I said sarcastically, "And the Camarilla _still _won't get involved?" Headshakes all around.

"Fine, then lets get out there, kill everything that moves, find the guy and fuckin' STAKE HIM!" I was behaving more like a Brujah than the Toreador sophisticate I was descended from. Meh, names were meaningless in the end.

"It isn't that simple..." Amy began. I cut her off.

"No, it is that simple. The longer we stand here talking, the more zombies this guy has to defend himself." Then something else occurred to me and I turned to Steven, "And why the fuck haven't your people just got in there and killed him during the day?"  
"He has too many human servants defending the place," he replied. I tipped my head back and sighed. _Why?_

"We cannot just charge in there. We must wait for Clarissa to arrive. She has...seen the end. If she is not there, all is lost." Great more Malk psycho-babble. I glanced pointedly at my watch.

"She shall be here soon," even as Amy spoke, a knock sounded on the door. I opened the door and there stood Clarissa, dressed in another old-timey looking corset. This one with roses embroidered on it. Her skirts swished quietly as she entered apartment, clutching her shotgun in one hand. A second riot gun was in her other hand. This she handed to me.

"This one is sorry for the loss of your boomstick. Accept this tribute," she said. I hefted the weapon and rested it on my shoulder, holding it by the pistol-grip handle. "Thanks," I said.

"The Ventrue Felipe has sent word that some of his clan will be willing to assist us," Amy said. Steven snorted, "Those suits are next to useless in a fight."  
I shrugged, saying, "Maybe they can tie up a few zombies while we take down our Tremere."

Amy shook her head and placed a firm hand on my arm. "It will be too risky for you to face him."  
"I'm not sitting around here while you get all the fun," I protested.

"He is over a hundred years old and his command of blood magic is strong. You are too young to stand up to him," Amy said. And god help me, she sounded genuinely concerned for my welfare.

"Alright. You elders go and deal with him but I'm still coming. I'll take out the humans and zombies and help the Ventrue keep blood of their suits."

Amy looked at Clarissa who nodded. Steven shrugged and said, "It's your ass."

I returned to my room to gear up. The new shotgun was about to get a nice workout.

In the carpark, we decided to all squeeze into the Impala. "I call shotgun!" I said hopefully. Amy said, "Just get in the back with Steven." Bitch. I sat in the rear seat behind Clarissa and crossed my arms over my chest. The Nosferatu got in the back, and in the close confines of the car, the smell of the sewers was overwhelming. "Bathe much?" I asked him.

"Typical Toreador princess," he sneered. I glared at him.

"If I were a princess, d'you think I'd live in this dump?"

"Both of you be silent!" Amy hissed as she gunned the engine. It was going to be a long trip.

After a couple of tedious hours driving we finally arrived at the warehouse. A rusty chain-link fence encircled the building and sign read Trespassers will be shot. Nice.

We sat in the car for a while and observed the goings on. A number of human guards patrolled the perimeter armed with various weapons. I could see other humans loading crates and boxes that looked suspiciously like coffins into the warehouse building. I could feel something stirring in the air. A miasma of dark power. Shortly after we arrived, a carload of Ventrue arrived. Two males and two females. Steven shook his head as he saw them. They were all wearing business attire. But at least they'd come armed. They approached the car and we all got out to meet them.

The elders had a quick chat about our approach and it was decided that the greenest of the Ventrue, a young looking guy named Edward would help me clear the humans and secure the area. The elder Ventrue would carry the fight to the Tremere along with Amy, Clarissa and Steven.

I shook hands with Edward and for want of something to ask said, "So...how long since your Embrace."  
"Um, six months." Great. Felipe couldn't have found a guy with more experience? Of course I only had eighteen months seniority on the guy. That was why I was stuck minding the shop while the adults cleaned house.

"Well, we better get started." I racked the slide of the shotgun and ran full speed at the fence. As I reached the fence, I jumped, my Celerity propelling me over the fence and landed me behind two humans. One was armed with a sawn-off double barrel shotgun. I so wanted that gun. The second had a tire iron. He must've been taking a piss when all the good stuff was being handed out. They turned towards me as I landed. Behind me, I could hear Edward scaling the fence.

Tire-Iron Boy swung at me. I easily evaded the attack and rammed my stiffened fingers into his throat. He went down choking. Shotgun Boy raised his weapon and opened up both barrels. The blasts tore up my vest and I felt the concussion hammer my ribcage. Before he could break and reload, I sprinted towards him, wrenched the gun out of his hands and twisted his neck. Edward arrived beside me looking stunned.

"Wow," he said. I pointed at a pair of zombies, fresh looking ones heading towards us. "Make yourself useful," I said and shoved him towards them. I took the time to reload the sawn-off shotgun. From elsewhere I could hear gunfire and screams as the elders began cleaning house.

Edward raised his handgun and snapped off shots, hitting the zombies everywhere _except_in the head. I rolled my eyes. I unholstered the .45 and put a round into each zombie's head. Blood and brain matter sprayed the yard. Yummy. My supernaturally enhanced hearing detected running footsteps heading our way. I turned to see five more ghouls racing towards us. Three broke off and ran at Edward. The other two came straight at me. I let them get in close before unloading both barrels into the closer one. He went down in a heap, chest a ruin. The second leaped over his fallen comrade, brandishing a knife. Blades are serious business to a vamp. A good, hard strike can open an artery and the next thing you know you're awash in your own blood. Then you're ash.

Knife boy feinted a strike at my face before changing direction and ramming the blade hilt deep into my chest. Which would have been quite painful had I not been wearing the vest. The ghoul gaped at me then realised his mistake and went for the gun at his hip.

"Here, let me," I offered and darted a hand out to grab his weapon. It was a nice pearl-handled Colt 1911 .45. "No please..." the ghoul pleaded. "Let me think about that a second," I said as I racked the slide back. "How does 'no' sound?" He turned to run and the bullet caught him at the base of his skull. Made quite the mess.

A high pitched scream got my attention and I turned to see Edward take a knife in the gut and another to the throat. The three ghouls had him surrounded and I could see he didn't have a chance. The ghouls knew it as well and were taking their sweet time with him, drawing out the agony.

I pulled the blade free of my vest and started towards them. One of the ghouls left his buddies to deal with Edward and turned to me, his knife coated in blood.

The ghoul grinned at me and sauntered over, full of confidence. "Never bring a knife to a gunfight," I said and unloaded my newly acquired 1911 Colt. I fed him five rounds. Then I put the sixth and final one through his forehead.

By now, Edward was toast. Literally. As I fired the final shot at my ghoul, Edward blazed and turned into ashes that floated gently to the ground. "You're next, bitch," one ghoul said. Evidently seen too many B grade action flicks, that one.

"Come get some," I said, having seen the Evil Dead films a few too many times. They ran at me. As the first one came in, I rammed my borrowed knife into his stomach and gave it a savage twist. He dropped whimpering. The second tried to pull up but his momentum caused him to topple over instead. I stood over him, and, grabbing him by the shoulders, hauled him up to face me. He swung a wild punch that glanced across my cheek bone. I rammed a fist into his face, breaking his nose and a few teeth. His cries of pain were cut off as I clamped onto his neck and drained him.

I stood alone amidst piles of corpses and listened. From inside the warehouse I could hear occasional gunshots, screams and felt something in the air. I paused to reload my arms then headed in to investigate. Something about this whole place was really off.

I sprinted towards the warehouse entrance and felt a wave of...I don't know how to describe it, dark energy lash out. Then a high-pitched shriek. I couldn't tell if it was male or female. Then sickening wet splattering sound from within. I ran inside the warehouse, dodging fallen corpses and picking my way around the crates and boxes stacked up. My running footsteps kicked up clouds of ash from dead vamps.

There, in the centre of the warehouse was a vision from a horror film made real. A vampire, coated in some kind of blood-shield stood, arms outstretched by his sides and head thrown back. Amy, Clarissa, Steve and two of the Ventrue stood stunned. The third Ventrue was nowhere to be seen. Then I took in the fact that everybody and everything was coated in blood and realised that the blood was all that remained of the missing Ventrue. He'd been blown up like a live animal in a microwave. I'd heard stories of Tremere blood magic - how they could manipulate the blood of Kindred and kine alike and cause horrific damage. But this...Amy and the others seemed stunned into immobility as the Tremere lowered his arms and began walking slowly towards me.


	10. Casualties

10. Casualties

I began backing up and brought up the sawn-off. The buckshot caused ripples to flow all across the blood shield but did no other damage. Dropping the shotgun, I opened up with the 1911. Each bullet struck and caused more ripples. Like small pebbles striking the surface of a lake. The Tremere reached me, grabbed me by the throat and hauled me into the air, my feet flailing above the concrete floor. He threw me against a wall and as I hit, I felt the concrete crack beneath me. I collapsed to the ground, stunned. As I struggled to my feet, another wave of energy washed out from the vampire and I was seized by horrific spasms through my stomach. My mouth opened to scream and blood, _my blood _gushed out. I slid to the ground, weakened from the loss of so much vitae and just lay there. Part of me wanted to give up and accept Final Death. My Beast stirred. Angry and afraid, it compelled me to rise and keep fighting. My legs were shaking and my vision blurred. If he had wanted to, the Tremere could have easily finished me off. Instead he picked me up and threw me across the room. I hit the floor hard, feeling ribs break and shuddered.

As I lay there on the floor, bloody as a newborn, I heard the others shake off whatever it was that had held them stunned. Amy shouted something and the Nosferatu grappled with the Tremere, the two trading vicious blows. As the Tremere's blood shield flickered and expired, he hit the Nosferatu with another of those sickening blasts of power. Steven's body jerked upright and I could see heat shimmering around him. Steam licked from his mouth and his eyes burst. Then he exploded. The blast was powerful enough that one of the surviving Ventrue was also killed. Amy and Clarissa were slammed halfway through a concrete wall and lay still. I had to get to my feet. After expending that much vitae, the Tremere had to be close to collapse. Of course, I wasn't much better off. I managed to achieve a half sitting position.

The Tremere walked unsteadily toward me, the burning of so much of his vitae leaving him seriously weakened. I managed to work my other handgun out of the holster at the base of my spine and brought it up in a shaky two-handed grip. The first shot missed wide and the recoil knocked my aim off balance. I swore and drew another bead on him. The next shot got him high on the chest and knocked him back half a step. Another shot, another half-step back. Then another.

I faintly heard Amy stirring and vaguely saw her extricate herself from the wall. Clarissa was still slumped to one side, injured I didn't know how badly.

I sighted down the barrel and fired again. Then the slide locked back. The gun was empty. And the Tremere was still limping towards me, shot half to death but determined to take me into hell with him.

Amy picked up a chunk of concrete about the size of a bread loaf and ran at him. He turned half way around, movement slow and jerky due to blood loss and injury. Amy slammed the concrete loaf into his forehead. He went down with a grunt. Amy fell on her knees beside him, tears cutting clean paths through the blood on her face and raised the concrete loaf again. Then a third time. Finally, the Tremere's corpse flared and he turned to ashes. Amy sat crumpled beside him, crying silently.

I rolled over onto my stomach, feeling broken bones grind against each other and cried out weakly. With muscles spasming, I levered myself to my knees and, gripping a wall for support got to my feet. I stumbed over to Amy and fell by her side. Unsure what do do, I wrapped my arms around her shoulders and held her while she wept.

Eventually, Amy got to her feet and helped me up. We had to help Clarissa. She was in bad shape. Boiling blood from Steven's explosive end had badly burned half her face but the real trouble was the un-natural cant of her head. Her neck was broken. Not bad enough to have killed her but bad enough to paralyse her. I knew of only one way to heal that kind of damage. I turned to Amy, "Find me a live body," I said softly. Amy gaped at me, not understanding.

"I'm going to feed her my blood, but I need more."  
"No, you aren't strong enough. She's my friend, I should be the one to help her."

"You can help me by finding one of those ghouls who's still alive and getting him in here. If you try to save her but fail, you'll spend the rest of eternity blaming yourself for her death. Blame me instead if it comes to that. Now go!" I shoved her towards the door. As she made to leave I turned back and told her, "Look for the guy with the blade in his gut. He was still alive when I left him." Amy nodded and forced herself to run.

I stared around at the absolute carnage wrought by that one vampire. This should have been the fucking Prince's job. His Clan, therefore it was definitely his problem, I don't care what political BS he tried to spin us. Amy returned with a semi-conscious body over her shoulder. He groaned as she dumped him by my feet. He didn't look too good. He was about to look worse. I grabbed his neck and drained him, my body healing itself. I shoved the corpse aside and turned to Amy. I took my knife and opened the veins in my left wrist, wincing at the pain. I held my wrist over Clarissa's mouth and drops of blood fell into her mouth and splashed her lips. Her throat gulped convulsively and she moaned.

More blood drizzled between her half open lips, her throat working greedily. "Please," Amy whispered, "Please." I could hear the bones in Clarissa's neck knit themselves together and with a sudden rush of strength she gripped my hand with hers and forced my wrist to her mouth. I felt her fangs pierce the skin and she began to feed. The sensation was at once painful and pleasurable. As she fed from me, the burns on Clarissa's face healed and her head jerked back into normal position, vertebrae grinding audibly. I groaned as she took more of my lifeblood into herself. I couldn't afford to give her any more.

"I'm sorry," I said as I pulled away from her. She sighed in pleasure and opened her brilliant blue eyes. Her gaze rested on me and she opened her mouth, likely to spout more Malkavian gibberish. She simply said, "My thanks to you, slayer of little dead-raiser."  
"Um...actually Amy finished him off. I just occupied him for a bit." Her eyes flicked to look at Amy who was on her knees gripping Clarissa's hand in both of hers.

"I thought I lost you," she whispered. I figured that was my cue to leave.

"I'll be waiting in the car," I said over my shoulder and walked into the night.

The End.


End file.
